League of Fluff
by CauliCake
Summary: A series of one-shots between League pairings. Pure fluff, no smut at all! Welcome to the League of Fluff! Reviews are always welcome, requests are always open! Rated T for language, because we all know a lot of champions like to curse.
1. The Executioner's Tune

**The Executioner's Tune**

Sona sighed again, frustrated. _"Executioner, please. I insist that you recall immediately. Your health is falling dangerously low." _

Draven rolled his eyes. "Woman, shut it will you? Draven's got this."

It had been about forty minutes into the last game of the day, when the Executioner narrowly escaped death and took a triple kill under his belt, all with the assistance of Sona. Any normal person would have recalled, even when they were at the Inhibitor turret of the enemy base. However, Draven still insisted in attacking the large structure, his confidence backed up by the stream of minions that were getting hit.

"_I will ask this one last time, please, it's imperative that you fall back!"_

"Didn't I tell you to-"

The Noxian was cut off by Sona's silent scream of surprise, echoing loudly in his head when they were ganked by the remaining two champions on the enemy team. They were both at full health, and looking bloodthirsty for some Shut Down gold. Draven activated his Blood Rush, along with the assistance of Sona's E, to gain more movement speed. Reckless as he was, even Draven knew he would need to retreat.

However, the enemy Blitzcrank would not give up so easily. He sent out his Rocket Grab, and Sona knew her ADC would not be able to dodge. His summoner was far too slow, and the triple kill he had gotten was out of pure luck. Both their Ultimates were down, and the Glorious Executioner had burned out his flash, his mana low. It was a dire situation.

Time slowed down for the Maven. The Rocket Grab was only a few inches away from Draven, almost about to grab him into Blitzcrank and Sivir's grasp. Closing her eyes, Sona did what she knew was the only option, with the rest of her teammates dead and unable to help. She flung her body in between Draven and Blitzcrank, squeezing her eyes shut.

The fact that her death would be fake burned bright in her mind, yet the fear of never making it back to her base would always be evident. Sona screamed out mutely in pain as barrage after barrage of their attacks hit her fragile body. She heard Draven's yell, but sent him one last message: _Run._

Then, everything blurred out.

* * *

Sona's eyes fluttered open, a loud ringing noise echoing in her head. "_Wha... What happened?"_

Blinding white light slowly settled down to the appearance of a hospital room. Looking around, Sona could see that she was in one of those cots, with bandages around her arms and hands. Identifying a nearby presence, she directed her voice towards the person: "_Why am I in need of medical care? I thought League injuries were not permanent."_

A metallic voice answered that question for her. "Data shows glitches in the Valoran server. Injuries: not permanent."

A healer smiled at Sona. "Please don't worry, Miss Buvelle. Your injuries should heal rather quickly. In fact, all that you have is a few scratches and all." The healer continued speaking, but the Maven's attention shifted elsewhere.

On a small drawer next to her sat some flowers and a note. The healer noticed Sona's curiosity and smiled. "I believe the Glorious Executioner left for you before he went to the restroom." she said, giggling slightly as if she and Sona shared some sort of inside joke.

_He was here? Right in this room? For me? _A light blush filled her cheeks. To think that someone like him would care...

"You are free to leave the hospital any time, Miss Buvelle," the healer said. "Just do not exert yourself too much, okay?" Sona nodded, smiling at the healer in thanks. Opening the note, her eyes scanned the paper, her smile widening to a grin.

**_Dear Woman,_**

**_Sorry for getting you killed. Couldn't have won the game without you. Hope you get better soon._**

**_Draven Out_**

The message was short, simple, and the words had been repeated to Sona multiple times. However... this felt special. For some reason, these words made Sona glow with happiness. Perhaps it was the fact Draven himself had written it. It was a known fact he didn't give out many "thank yous", and seldom any "sorries", and the fact he decided to grace Sona with _both..._ Now that was something to be thankful for.

Just then, the door burst open, causing everyone in the room besides Blitzcrank to jump. "Is she still sleeping?" a familiar voice demanded.

"Sir, please do not startle our patients like that!" the healer gasped, clutching her chest.

"Draven does what he wants, sweetheart, so why don't you-" the Noxian paused midsentence, seeming to finally realize Sona's blue eyes staring at him. "Oh. You, um, you're awake! Great! And you got my note, too!" Sona nodded, her grin widening further.

"I-I'll leave you two alone for now, then," the healer said. Clearly, she knew when two people needed some private time. Blitzcrank, however, stayed, his eyes focused intently on Draven and Sona.

"Dude," Draven said, giving him a look.

The healer sighed, and Blitzcrank found himself being dragged out of the room. What a pity. He really was starting to learn more about human emotion, too.

Draven sat at the corner of Sona's bed. They shared a comfortable silence, before Draven spoke up. "So, um, I hope you liked the flowers."

"_I'm allergic to wildflowers," _Sona stated. Draven's face turned red. "Oh geez, I, well, you," his words became jumbled up in a large, confusing mess.

The Maven chuckled, her body shaking slightly in silent laughter, and she put her hand on his. "_It was a joke, Executioner," _she explained. "_Thank you. For the note, and for the flowers."_

It took a while for that to sink into Draven, but when it did he laughed out loud. "Ahaha! I knew that!" He laughed more, a bit awkwardly, until he realized that he was laughing too much. The Executioner quickly stopped, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. Sona gave him a small smile.

A few more minutes of silence, then:

"Listen, woman. I... should have listened to you." Sona's eyes widened. It was one thing for Draven to say sorry in a note, but another to say it in person. "Thanks to you, though, we won the game! But... it was my fault that you died." His voice no longer held the boisterous, boastful tone. It was soft and quiet, something Sona never expected from him. "I'm sorry."

Draven sighed, closing his eyes. He didn't know what it was with this woman that made him... apologize. Him? The great Draven, apologize? And yet he was doing it, right now, right here.

The Executioner suddenly felt something soft on his cheek. "Woman?"

The Maven smiled, a bit shyly. "_I don't want you to get so caught up over me," _she said. "_It's okay. You were just careless. It happens a lot... Draven."_

It was the first time Sona had said his name, instead of addressing him as "Executioner" or "Carry" or "Noxian". And somehow, it felt good. The mental link they shared... it soothed him. Draven felt more relaxed, calmer. He found himself smiling.

"So, you know, there's a place down at Noxus that just opened up. You wanna come with Draven?"

"_You know... I think that'd be enjoyable."_

_"_Really? That's great! I mean... of course you'd think that. You'd be with Draven!"

"_You're so adorable."_

"Wait, what?! Draven's not adorable, Draven's manly as hell!"

"_Alright, alright. You're very manly."__  
_

"That's right I am! Haha!"

As the two chatted and spoke, one Prince of Demacia stood outside the hospital window, holding two branches up over his head. His eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, and he growled slightly. "Damned Noxian... What're they saying?!"

**Author's Note: Have a fluff fic. Any requests for me? I'll take em :3**


	2. Of Light and Darkness

**Of Light and Shadow**

Luxanna Crownguard, prodigy of Demacia, born into the perfect and prestigious family of the Crownguards, hated the dark.

It was a well known fact. Ever since she was small, the little girl would always insist on burning candles in her room, the soft glow of flame protecting her from the darkness. As she grew older, Lux's hatred faded away, but whenever she was robbed of her sight, or when night slowly began to fall over Demacia, her heart would race to run back to her home and switch on the lights.

This fear proved to be rather problematic in her career as a Champion in the League. It was so often the case that she would break down in paranoia whenever the champion Nocturne appeared on the enemy team, or even their team, that there was a bit of an ongoing joke about the two.

Lux didn't find it very humorous, and Nocturne was never able to be reached for his opinion on the matter.

The Crownguard was walking down the halls of the Institute of War. It had been a busy day, especially since it was Sunday, the day when League matches were closed so champions could have a break of their own. Lux had helped the Prodigal Explorer examine some ancient ruins, fought briefly with the Sinister Blade (which ended in Garen and Talon dragging the two females away, holding them back), and had went shopping for skins with Janna. Her muscles were sore and tired, as Janna had forced her to try on hundreds of different skins before proclaiming none of them "suited" her.

At this point, Lux just wanted to find a nice little bench to sit on, and relax for a while.

Just when she thought her legs would fall off from the long walk, she spied a little bench outside in one of the Institute's gardens. Faster than somebody could've said "double rainbow!", she planted her rear on the seat, sighing in happiness at the break she was finally able to receive. After all, as a Crowguard, you couldn't just take a break in the middle of the road or on the floor! She had a reputation to uphold, and as much as she had wanted to keel over and lay down on the floor, she endured the pain until she had found the glorious bench.

"Geez, the Institute's halls are _long!"_ Lux exclaimed to no one particularly.

"_Tell me about it."_

Luxanna nearly jumped up in surprise of the unexpected voice. She paled when she thought she recognized the low, ethereal voice, wispy and ghostly and all-together spelling out one name:

Thresh.

She turned around, and nearly swore. It wasn't Thresh, it was someone much worse.

The Eternal Nightmare himself, floated next to the Lady of Luminosity, his eyes glowing bright blue. Were those even his eyes? She couldn't really tell, since her vision was quickly slipping. Was she about to faint from fear? No, she wasn't, right? She was a Crowguard!

_Oh no, I'm rambling to myself again,_ Lux thought.

"Er, um, hello... Mister Eternal Nightmare," she stammered. "H-H-H-How are you?"

Some low, guttural sound echoed from the being that was Nocturne. "_Usually, I'd have to use one of these... damned 'abilities' to cause paranoia in others, but it seems like the simple sight of me will suffice_."

"Ahahahahaha! Y-Yup, that's me!'

Some awkward silence.

"So, um, Eternal Nightmare huh-"

"_I wonder why the hell you'd be trying to make polite conversation right now, when we both now that I'd love to rip your soul out of that flesh bag of a body of yours."_

Luxanna gulped. So, not the biggest talker, eh? Part of her wanted to scream and run, but the other part, the more stubborn part, refused. _I am Luxanna Crownguard, and I will not back down from my fears and- oh there it goes I'm talking to myself again._

"Y-You want t-t-to hang out someti-"

The Lady of Luminosity suddenly found herself pinned down by wisps of smoky darkness, so thick that it had quite a solid touch. A black blade stuck underneath her chin, tilting her head up. Nocturne's mask was dreadfully close to her face, and she could literally feel the extent of all of his hatred and disgust in her and all the beings on the physical plane of existence.

"_Listen, Light-woman," _he sneered, "_the only thing stopping me from tearing out your throat right this moment is this stupid... Institute's chains on me. But in a secluded garden like this, nobody is going to see anything. And I hear that injuries outside of those stupid 'matches' are pretty permanent. So unless you want a blade down your throat, I suggest you shut your mouth, understand?"_

Lux could hardly find her voice, but when she spoke, she was surprised at how strong and steady it was. "Y-You're rather pathetic, aren't you? Assaulting a woman just because she was trying to become acquaintances? I swear I'll report you to the Institute!"

Nocturne snarled, his eyes glowing brighter than ever. "_That does it!-"_

Everything after that happened in an instant. His blade just started to pierce through Luxanna's skin, drawing blood, and the sorceress let out a strangled cry and threw out a _Lucent Singularity _right at the same moment, the glowing prism lighting up just above Nocturne's head as the entire area around them glowed.

The Eternal Nightmare hissed like a cat touching water, leaping off of Lux and covering his face... mask. "_N-Nooo, aaargh!"_ His voice raised a pitch, entering a woman's octave.

Lux sat there, stunned for a moment, before she fell down rolling in laughter. Nocturne growled and, with one hand over his mask, tried to lunge at her again, but Lux was ready this time. With something almost similar to a triumphant cry, she detonated the attack, causing momentary blinding light. Nocturne howled again, his voice reaching a feminine peak again, and his exclamation lasted so long it turned into a squeal of... fear?

Like a dog with its tail behind its legs, Nocturne turned the other way immediately and fled.

Lux never thought she would hear one of the most feared champions on the League sound so... fearful. It was almost funny. In fact, it was funny! This unexpected side of Nocturne, this fearful side, was actually... adorable, even. It made him look harmless, like a little puppy.

And in a way, Lux thought, he kind of was. At least, only to her.

Just then, she heard heavy footsteps and the _chink chink _of armor that was oh-so-familiar in Demacia. She turned around to see her brother running towards her, his eyes showing all of his worry and concern and disbelief.

"Sister! Sister! A-Are you alright? Was that just Nocturne? Oh man, are you okay?! Damn that weird ghost-smoke creature, I'll have a talk with the Institute about allowing him to wander so freely nowadays..."

Lux just shook her head and gave him a smile. "No, it's alright, Brother," she said gently. "I don't think we'll have to worry about my fear of the dark anymore."

After all, who could still fear the dark when they had seen the literal symbol of darkness squeal like a child?

That's right.

Nobody. Especially not Luxanna Crownguard.

**Author's Note: Ehhhh... not really romantic, but it's kinda hard to write a short drabble about these two. Anyways, I hope you liked, GoG ToXiC. Send in requests if you want a specific pairing :3**


	3. Broken Blades and Shattered Daggers

**Broken Blades and Shattered Daggers**

**(I forgot to add a disclaimer, so here it is! League of Legends is property of Riot Games, and I have no ownership over LoL.)**

**(This one might be kinda angsty. Fluff-angst.)**

Katarina walked down the Institute, a confident flair to her steps as she made her way down the long halls. A smirk graced her lips, cruel green-blue eyes glittering. She was the Sinister Blade, the most powerful champion in all of the League, in fact probably the most powerful champion in all of Valoran! At least, this was what she thought about herself.

A familiar voice suddenly caused her to stop in her tracks. _Hm..? What is that?_

The voice was distant and held a calm tone. No, there wasn't one voice, it was two. Katarina knew that she shouldn't eavesdrop... Just kidding. She was trained to eavesdrop, ever since she was a child! With her curiosity piqued, the redhead crept her way towards the sound. Her sneak led her to a large, wide-open space, one of the Institute's many gardens. Hiding behind a column, the Sinister Blade could just barely make out what the two voices were saying.

"We completely understand your thoughts, Miss Riven," the second voice said. "I'm sure Ionia will be able to forgive your past sins... and, of course, allow you to pursue your goal there."

_Riven?! That traitor bitch?_ Katarina's face burned with red-hot anger, and she could feel her hand twitching over the hilt of her blade.

Riven, the Exile. The poster-girl that Katarina grew up looking at. The little du Coteau would always stare up at the large pieces of parchment that hung on the city walls and poles of Noxus, seeing a girl about the same age as her looking... so confident. So sure of herself. So successful. Katarina had always looked up Riven, ever since childhood. She was everything that Noxus represented: brave, stealthy, cruel, and mentally and physically strong.

And then... the betrayal.

_Wait a moment... What does she mean, "allow you to pursue your goal there"? Is Riven moving to Ionia?! Was exiling herself from Noxus not enough, that she must spit on our pride?! _

"Thank you, Duchess Karma," Riven's voice replied. "I... I just feel so embarrassed, every time I think about... well, you know."

Karma laughed a bit, and Katarina saw the Ionian woman place a hand on Riven's shoulder. _Get your filthy hand off of her, you bitch!_ Katarina's eyebrows narrowed, and she was sorely tempted to _Shunpo _onto one of the two women and kill them off immediately.

"It's quite alright, my dear," Karma said soothingly. "The past is in the past. We won't dwell on what you have done." She smiled secretively, and the Duchess's hand moved up from Riven's shoulder to her cheek, stroking it gently. "After all, I am sure that you've truly repented your crimes after that little... meeting we had last night."

_Meeting? What meeting? What the hell?! _

Riven's tanned skin flushed a bit. "Heh heh, thank you, Duchess."

"No problem, my dear. Now, about your city-state transfer into Ionia... I must go through some meetings with the Elders of Ionia before we can make it official, but I'm sure that I can allow them to see reason," Karma said. "I'll see you tonight, I presume?"

"Y-Yes," Riven answered, her voice only stammering the slightest bit. "Thank you, again. For everything."

Karma simply smiled at the Exile before turning, walking away. _Now's my chance!_ Katarina's plan was simple: corner Riven and kill her for her crimes. What could go wrong?

The Exile was just about starting to leave as well when a whir of red and the glint of steel appeared behind her. Her senses, perfected in the difficult and grueling Noxian training, caught the sudden motion last second, and Riven whirled around to find Katarina shoving her towards the ground.

"Sinister Bla-"

Riven's exclamation was cut off by a sharp punch to the jaw, not hard enough to shatter bone, but strong enough to form a large bruise, already swelling. "What the hell!?" Riven yelled, now struggling underneath Katarina's grip.

"What the hell? That's what I'm supposed to be asking you, you Exiled traitor! Claiming yourself dead, huh? So what, you can fraternize with our enemy? The ones that brought Noxus so much shame?!" Her anger brought another punch, now to the other side of Riven's jaw. The woman gasped out in pain, blood and saliva spat out onto the ground as she struggled to breath.

"Shame? It was Noxus that brought itself shame, du Coteau!" Riven yelled back, successfully catching Katarina off guard. She spun around, now pinning the redhead down on the floor instead. "I left because Noxus was no longer the city-state that I admired... You play dirty! Ionia should have lawfully won that fight, but... what happened to our Noxian pride?! Gone, in the poison and chemicals that were illegal play in our war!"

"Shut... up! I'll make you pay!" Katarina screamed, her movements far too violent and irregular for Riven to control. "You took everything from Noxus, from me! My time, my admiration, my LIFE!" She used two hands to shove Riven off of her, struggling to get up. "This isn't about Noxus anymore, you bitch! It's about how you _took SO MUCH OF MY LIFE AWAY FROM ME!"_

But somehow, her voice wasn't into it. Those punches... She could have broken Riven's jaw, easily. But then, why was she still talking?

Did she not have the courage to bring Noxus its pride?

But she said so herself... it wasn't about Noxus or Ionia anymore... it was about herself.

A vision passed through her mind, moments flashing by in nanoseconds in Katarina's head.

_The little du Coteau child peeked out behind Marcus' legs, her face as red as her hair. She couldn't believe it! It was _the _Riven, the girl that everyone in Noxus loved, standing right in front of her!_

_"No need to be shy," Riven said. Katarina was surprised at how gentle her voice was. "I won't hurt you."_

_Slowly, Katarina stood out towards the famed child, her face downcast. "H-H-Hi... My n-names K-K-Katarina..."_

_"Katarina, huh? That's a really nice name!" Then Riven looked up towards Marcus du Coteau, her kind face hardening slightly. "I'll take it from here now, sir. I'm sure I can teach your daughter many useful things." Marcus nodded and turned, a small smile on his face, hidden behind the stoic expression he always wore._

_Riven showed Katarina a knife. "See, these are used for stealthy attacks. You use them to sneak up on people!" Then, a sword. "This is for more up-front attacks. They're good for mid-range to close-range combat, depending on the user." Finally, a dagger. "This is for throwing, and they're good for all ranges. I hear you've got a good aim, Katarina."_

_Katarina blushed. "Y-Yeah!" She had always hit her mark. Riven handed the dagger to Katarina, and they spent the day aiming at moving targets, impossible distances, then throwing multiple blades at once..._

_It was difficult training, but at the same time... the du Coteau child felt a warm glow of happiness, of content as she spent her time with Riven. It was her first time seeing a girl of her own age look so calm and cool when using the big, sharp objects that Katarina was never allowed to touch, unless covered in foam and completely child-proof. Riven looked so adult, so sure of herself... _

_Something hot sparked inside of Katarina's chest that day._

"Damn you!" she screamed, her head feeling hot and fuzzy. She lunged at Riven, knife out and ready to cut into her. Riven dodged, standing up quickly herself and ducking as Katarina swiped again. "Calm yourself down!" the Exile cried.

_"Riven, why do you always give your money to those poor kids in Noxus?" an older Katarina asked. She was about ten years old, now. "Isn't our motto, Forever Strong? The stronger will always dominate the weak, right? So why are you helping them?"_

_Riven sighed. "It's... a difficult concept. I just feel... so sorry for those kids, every time I walk past them. You know, I used to be like them as well?"_

_"But you didn't get any help from others, did you?"_

_"Well... no," Riven admitted. "But I feel like there's a chance that they all could become as great as me, as long as they have something to push them towards the right direction."_

_Katarina laughed. "No one's ever going to be as great as you, Riven!"_

_To this, the white-haired girl laughed and tackled Katarina, the two of them playfully fighting each other in "preparation" for any sneak attacks. Really, though, the game was simply for fun._

There was something wet rolling down Katarina's cheek. "I... won't... calm... down! Until you apologize!" Were those tears? But how? Why were her movements getting slower, more sluggish than fast. She had a meal before this, she hadn't exerted herself in any way... so why?

_"Riven... do you really have to go?" A nineteen year old Katarina's eyes were downcast when Riven told her the news. She was to be deployed to Ionia as part of the Noxian invasion. Throughout her life, Riven was the only one that Katarina now found to be as close as family. Riven filled up the void that was created when her father suddenly disappeared. Riven comforted her, taught her all of her tricks._

_Katarina felt a gentle peck on the side of her lips, and her head snapped up faster than a spring, to see Riven's kind eyes staring into hers. "Kat... I'll come back. I promise."_

_"Promise promise?"_

_"Yeah, promise promise."_

_The next few weeks, Katarina waited patiently by the docks of Noxus, awaiting Riven's arrival. Then, the fourth week, news that all the Noxian and Ionian soldiers had been killed. They made a shrine for Riven. It was raining the day they burned everyone's shrouds._

_After all the Noxian bystanders had left, Katarina finally allowed herself to cry. Kneeling at the smoking pile of Riven's shroud, right in front of her shrine, she started pounding the soft, wet dirt. Rain around her got stronger, as if the weather aligned with her mood._

_"YOU PROMISED ME YOU WOULD COME BACK! RIVEN!" Katarina screamed as hard as she could, as loud as she could without any restraint. Finally, her voice, hoarse and croaky, let out one last quiet sob. "Riven... where are you?"_

_Then the darkness overwhelmed her, and Katarina fell._

"You left me! YOU LEFT ME!" Katarina screamed, tears now freely falling down her cheek. Riven's eyes widened at these words, the inkling of the memory rekindled in her eyes. "APOLOGIZE!"

Her body couldn't find any strength anymore, and her muscles finally relaxed. Katarina's body, about to hit the ground, suddenly found itself in Riven's arms. The Exile hugged her fiercely, and all the memories of the past suddenly rushed into the Sinister Blade's head. Without any restraint, like before, she screamed out, crying in Riven's arms like a small child.

"Just... stay with me... One last time..." she whispered.

And Riven complied.

**Author's Note: Whooooooo! Longest chapter yet! :D This is for Regicy45. I hope you liked it!**

**And guys, the requests! So many! o.o Please don't get offended if your request isn't showcased for the next few chapters, I need to get through... a lot. ;-; But the fact that you guys actually put in requests, it means so much to me. I mean, it shows me that you like my writing, and you want to see how I could write your pairing! Honestly, it means the world to me that you did that.**

**Hugs and kisses for all! 3**

**-CauliCake**


	4. Employing a Baker

**Employing a Baker**

**Disclaimer: Taco/CauliCake does not own League of Legends, and unfortunately, she never will. ;-;**

**This is for MediocreJesus. Thank you, friend! :D**

Morgana. Famed baker, owner of the Sinful Succulence, was in trouble.

Ever since starting the small bakery in the corner of a Noxian street, Morgana had been able to remodel Sinful Succulence plenty of times. It went from a small, dingy little nook to a large, freshly-painted, and architecturally-advanced building. Her bakery had been showcased many times in the Journal of Justice, a little tabloid that appeared weekly across Valoran, and been given amazing reviews by famous High Summoner Gordon Ramsey, Florian Bellinger, and Candace Nelson. People traveled all the way from Demacia and Freljord to try her legendary treats (although, of course, Demacians never got to taste them. They were kicked out immediately. Morgana, after all, hated Demacians.).

It is a good life.

That is, it _was _a good life.

Morgana was enjoying the success of her bakeries. It was a peaceful day, where she was tending to the main Sinful Succulence in Noxus. The small clock at the cashier's counter struck 9 o'clock, and with a swing of her hands Morgana pushed open the doors. Suddenly, a crowd of citizens swarmed into the bakery.

The Fallen Angel was scared of very little. She was scared of one day having her powers rendered from her by Kayle. She was scared of the day, as much as it seemed unlikely, that Kayle would somehow defeat her. However, these were minor fears. Morgana had already prepared her mind and her body for such situations, and was not too worried about them.

The same could not be said for the sudden crowd of people in her bakery.

There had to be at least seventy Noxians, all crowded into one small, quaint little shop. Peering out the door window the best she could, Morgana paled at the sight that there was a line of Noxians waiting outside. A long line, that stretched all the way across the street.

_What... the... fu-_

"Um, excuse me, but I believe I placed in my order already," the first customer grumbled.

Morgana gave him a steely look. "I'm sorry, sir," she said through gritted teeth, "could you please repeat that?"

The Fallen Angel went through absolute _hell _that day. Sure, she had handled a few masses of customers in her time, but never an entire city-state. Literally, it seemed that every inhabitant of Noxus (that was wealthy enough, of course) had come to her shop. Part of her felt gratified, and another part of her wanted to shove everyone out. And a very, very large part of her was afraid that this large, angry-looking mob would overrun her bakery and kill her.

Morgana may have been branded a heretic by Kayle and the other angels, but even she wouldn't stoop to so low as to killing defenseless, stupid, wealthy Noxians.

At least, not before she had emptied their wallets and pockets for money.

She made it through the day, but just barely, forcing the ethereal beings to work overtime. At the end of the day, all of her magic had been worn out, and the beings dissipated almost immediately when the last customer left. All she wanted to do was take a nice, long bath, maybe close down the shoppe for a few days. She sighed contentedly, mind full of thoughts about taking a break...

When she entered the kitchen.

_Holy hell._ Cupcake batter had spilled on the floor, and Morgana had the misfortune to step in a large puddle of the goo. Fruits lay littered across the countertops, their juices dribbling onto the floors. It seemed like one of the spirits had gone crazy with frosting and whipped cream, because for some reason, Morgana's name had been spray-painted on the ceiling in pink frosting, and then crossed out with whipped cream. The toppings had solidified on the ceiling now, and they were crystalized icicles... frosticles? Flour had exploded across one end of the kitchen, and there were tiny blotches of purple stains EVERYWHERE that Morgana had no idea where came from.

For the first time in a _long _time, Morgana cried.

* * *

The next day, Sinful Succulence was temporarily closed. The long line of people outside sighed in disappointment when they saw Morgana herself walk outside, slap the paper on the door, and then slam it shut.

**_Sinful Succulence: Now Employing_**

**_Requirements:_**

**_Strong_**

**_Able to handle heavy-duty working_**

**_Will not be fazed by souls whispering in ears, displays of dark magic, etcetera etcetera_**

**_Have knowledge of baking _**

**_Please meet at Sinful Succulence building at promptly 3 P.M. sharp. The judge will be extremely harsh. Not for the weak-hearted, sun-worshipping idiots. That means you, Leona._**

**_-Morgana, official manager and owner of Sinful Succulence_**

As soon as word spread out across the mob, the entire population rose up in excited chatter. Even those who never dared to set foot in Morgana's shop were excited. There were no qualifications for class or ranking in the social hierarchy. Everybody was convinced that they would be able to be employed, and all they could see was the glory and money they would get if they landed this job.

During this commotion, the Artisan of War Pantheon happened across the street. He had been in Noxus to pick up one of those new weapons that had recently came out. It was an axe... or something. He was sure that it wouldn't be better than his amazing spear of death and amazing-ness, but it felt good checking. Just to make sure.

He noticed the clamor and walked over to take a look. Rakkorans are very curious by nature, and Pantheon was perhaps the most curious of all. Almost everyone paled at the sight of a tall, extremely ripped man wearing a battle helm and a skirt march over, and the sea of people parted. He leaned in, reading the flyer carefully. His eyes squinted at the words. It was a challenge, was it not? Of course he was strong enough to overcome any of these pesky obstacles! He could lift three Leonas, so he was most definitely strong and was able to handle heavy duty work, although he would never tell Leona that. Whispering souls? How about the whispering of Rakkorans as they watched your every move in a bloody arena to the death? Dark magic? Pantheon almost burst out laughing at that. If he could tank through both Leona and Diana's magic, _black _magic would be nothing! And knowledge of baking?

Well, Pantheon thought he was a pretty good baker. So he decided to give this little... job opportunity a try.

This was just like the Rakkoran ritual. Only... in cupcake form.

Quite pleased with this decision, and completely forgetting about his little weaponry treatment, Pantheon set off to preparing for his little "audition" for this job.

**2:50 PM, Sinful Succulence**

Morgana smiled, looking quite pleased with her accomplishment. She had temporarily removed all decor and set up a large stand up at the door to the kitchen, which read, _**"Auditions held in Kitchen. Please wait patiently in the main room until your number is called. Any horseplay, foul language, or any trouble whatsoever will be eliminated immediately."**_

The Fallen Angel peered out the shop, and was shocked and amused to see so many hopefuls lined up at the door. Their smiles, she knew, would be wiped clean off very, very quickly. Humming to herself, she twirled around a bit.

This was going to be an exciting day.

* * *

Pantheon grumbled to himself for the fifth time in twenty minutes. The Artisan of War had arrived at "promptly 3'o clock PM", as the flyer said, and found that a large mob of people were blocking his path. He had expected maybe twenty to fifty people, but not... was this two hundred? Three? He, unlike everyone else who had arrived, was wearing rag-tagged clothing. Clothes he wouldn't mind getting dirty, because everyone knew that baking meant dirty business.

Looking around, he decided that not everyone knew that baking meant dirty business. He almost choked trying to hold back his laughter when he heard a Noxian bragging to another that he had bought a special suit for 1500 gold pieces, just for the occasion.

Finally, the doors opened. The mass let out loud cries of excitement and happiness as they surged in. However, even when Morgana's bakery was filled to the max, Pantheon was still so far behind the line that he had to wait outside.

_Damn it all to hell._

* * *

Morgana gave the first hopeful a look. She looked like an average woman: nobody would remember her face. Before she could even introduce herself, Morgana held up a large sign she had made especially for this purpose.

_"NEXT!"_

The girl ran sobbing out of the room, which didn't faze Morgana at all. Cupcake business was tough business, and if you weren't up for the challenge, you aren't fit to be an employee at Sinful Succulence. You had to uphold an image, as well as be skilled. And frankly, that girl should stay with summoning. Her tiny, spindly arms looked like they couldn't hold enough to feed a pair of mice.

The next person was a man who had continuously pestered Morgana ever since Sinful Succulence had opened to selling her land.

"Are you even here to audition?"

"Well, no, but I could offer you some great deals-"

"_NEXT!"_

As he left, looking rather cheerful, she peeked out over his shoulder to see that the "waiting room" was packed to the brim with people.

_Damn it all to hell._

* * *

-Six torture-filled hours later-

* * *

Morgana checked the list. Her violet hair was mussed up, and she seemed to have developed a minor twitching in her right eye. A grand total of three people, out of two hundred sixty seven (not counting one) had made it to the actual _baking _part of the audition, and they had left sobbing because, oh, what a tragedy, they got flour all over their fancy schmancy suits!

Thank the gods there was only one contestant left.

She looked at the name, but all he/she had written was the letter P... how strange. "Come in, number 267," she called tiredly.

When she saw who #267 was, her tiredness instantly vanished.

"P-Pantheon?!"

"Hah! Saving the best for last, hm? I admire that, Fallen Angel!" Pantheon laughed, a loud hearty chuckle. "Now, what is it that you require from me before you give me this job?"

His question snapped Morgana back to reality. The audition! Half of her wanted to give him the job straight away. After all, he seemed to fit all of her requirements. He was obviously strong, both physically and mentally, and his appearance would surely leave a lasting impression on all Sinful Succulence customers. However...

Morgana's eyes gleamed purple.

Was he up to the challenge of being a Sinful Succulence baker?

She gestured towards the laid-out ingredients at the kitchen counter. "Your only task... is to make me a pastry that will _impress _me. You have thirty minutes." None of them questioned the short time-period Morgana had given him. After all, they lived in Valoran, for the gods' sakes! The ovens would obviously be magically enhanced, or the fires were obviously magically tampered with.

With a firm nod, Pantheon's hands suddenly went flying out in front of him. It was like his determination matched his fearlessness when it came to fighting in the League. Morgana, for the first time, was amazed at someone else's baking skills. He whipped the batter and eggs quickly and efficiently, with the might of ten men, and then poured the batter into large tins. He observed them a bit, squinting through his helmet, and shoved the batter violently into the oven.

Now came the frosting. Except, he didn't use frosting. He used whipped cream. It wasn't whipped cream from a can, either. This was honest, good-to-gods, homemade whipped cream! Morgana could only watch with her jaw dropped as he did this all, seemingly unfazed by the pressure on him.

The oven dinged, and with a mighty swing of his hands, he brought the cake into a blue polka-dotted cupcake-wrapper. Delicately, he took a spoon and spread the whipped cream over the cake. He did not disgrace the work of art with sprinkles. Sprinkles, as every experienced baker knows, are an insult to baking society. Instead, he broke a chocolate bar into eight completely congruent rectangles, and mashed them into a syrupy texture and drizzled it over the cupcake.

With a flourish, he presented the masterpiece to Morgana.

Shakily, Morgana took a bite out of the cupcake. It wasn't just vanilla, or just chocolate, it was a sinful mixture of both...

A sinfully succulent treat.

"W-Well, you cook far too messily," she started, trying to hold her position as the always disapproving overhead figure. "And the cupcake... the flavor is too unbalanced between cream and chocolate and the actual cake."

Pantheon hid his smile. Morgana could make up all the excuses in the world about how his cooking was a fail, but he was 100% certain that he had just landed the job.

**-Ten years later-**

Morgana looked at Pantheon sadly. The mobs at Noxus had quietly died down, as people started fearing Pantheon's very fearsome appearance. They got most of their orders from telephone now, and Morgana exercised full rights to decline or accept the orders. However, ten years had passed. Ten very, very happy years, where just when something seemed to begin to bloom between the two...

"Pantheon... must you go back to Rakkor?"

"I'm sorry, Morgana, but you know I must fulfill my duties as a Rakkoran. If they knew that I wasn't returning because of a woman... I'm afraid they'll hurt you." Morgana didn't bother to argue that she could've defeated them. There were about twenty to forty Rakkorans total, and each were skilled close-range fighters. Even the Fallen Angel knew her limits.

"But, before I leave... I'm going to give this to you." Pantheon pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his kilt, and handed it to Morgana. "It's a.. special recipe. Make it only when you truly miss me. I promise I'll be back."

A few days later, Morgana was in a wreck. Work at the Sinful Succulence simply... wasn't the same without the large Rakkoran man, loudly making jokes and cursing and causing her to chuckle to herself. Unwrapping the paper, she started to make what seemed like a cupcake recipe.

When it was finally finished, she took a bite, chewing moodily before her eyes widened in surprise. Memories flooded back to her... that day, ten years ago.

This was the recipe for the first ever pastry Pantheon had ever made her.

Morgana wiped her tears away, laughing as she savored every bit of the cupcake.

_Everything's going to be alright, because I know that I'll see you again, soon. _

**Fin. Well, there's that. Extra long chapter to make up for the absence of updates... ;-; sorry gais. **

**And gosh, those reviews! So many! Holy crap I need to get to work. To answer a question I can't answer on PM:**

**To Matrafax: I already made a Lux and Nocturne fluff(?). Chapter two. Alright, it's not really fluff. It's kind of fluff? _Please don't kill me. _**

**And happy mother's day to all those moms out there! :D Great job taking care of your kids! Unless you're a child abuser. Then you should stop. You did not do a great job at taking care of your children. Please, no.**


	5. Author's Notice

**Author's Notice:**

**I've hit something a bit like a Writer's Block for some time, and it's getting me down a lot. I'm making this notice because I want you guys to know that I'm still working on the chapters, I'm just having a bit of a... hard time. It feels more and more difficult to write and come up with ideas, or continue stories. I feel like giving up a lot of the time while trying to think of new stories. I'm really sorry for those of you that thought this was an update, and it turned out to be a note from me. **

**If any of you could PM me, I'd love to hear your ideas. I want League of Fluff to be something created by both me and its readers. I'd be so happy if you guys could help me with this block right now. Thank you so much for taking time to read this.**

**-Taco**


	6. The Cons of Being a Prince

**The Cons of Being a Prince**

**Disclaimer: Taco doesn't own League of Legends ;-;**

**A/N: Apologies, this chapter will be shorter than usual. Lately I have been feeling a bit more stressed out, and apparently did not save my stories, so I had to completely redo this chapter. Again, I apologize. Hopefully I can work on another chapter for this ship in the future.**

As the prince of Demacia, Jarvan IV had a lot of responsibilities. These responsibilities included policing the Demacian Royal Military, reading over multitudes of documents and contracts, and, in the eyes of King Jarvan III being the most important, marriage. Jarvan IV was a 24 year old man, who had faced countless demons and monsters and armies of men. His 25th birthdate was drawing closer and closer, and the King of Demacia insisted Jarvan find a suitable spouse to settle down with and rule over Demacia.

The prince, needless to say, was terrified.

He sat alone in one of the Demacian palace's meeting rooms, his only companion his spear. It may have seemed like an odd place to brood, but his chambers would most definitely be filled with suitors that had mysteriously arrived there. The Queen of Demacia claimed innocence. Here, in one of the hundreds of meeting rooms, nobody would find him.

Just as he had finished this thought, a small, timid knock on the door sounded out. He almost broke the wooden mahogany table, but as the high prince of Demacia, he had to be patient. Letting out a frustrated sigh, he walked over to the door, opening it. "What is it- Quinn?"

Demacia's Wings, save for Valor, gave Jarvan a small smile. "Oh, um, Prince! I... I was looking for you!"

"Come in," he said, widening the door. "Where's Valor at?"

"Out hunting," Quinn replied, pulling out a seat for the prince before sitting down herself. "How are you feeling, Prince?"

"Quinn, you know that you don't have to call me Prince, right? It makes me feel alienated when you speak to me so formally."

"Will _your royal highness _do, Jarvan?" Quinn joked lightly. In response, Jarvan gave her a look and sighed. "What's wrong?"

"My parents." The prince of Demacia groaned. "They wish for me to get married. Married! I have work to do, jobs to carry out, fights to finish, how can I possibly think of marriage at a time like this? _They _seem happy enough ruling Demacia, why must I take their place now?"

Quinn chuckled a bit at Jarvan's reaction. It was times like these when he acted so much like a child. "You know, I'm sure finding someone who understands you, who you'll love unconditionally at a first glance... That wouldn't be so bad, Jarvan," she said, her mind wandering slightly to a certain person.

"I don't have _time _to go off and marry," the Prince retorted. "I have work to do, jobs to carry out-"

"Fights to finish?"

Jarvan just groaned. Quinn laughed a bit. "Oh come now, Jarvan. Don't be so childish."

"Childish? There's nothing childish about this! Even if I were to agree with this entire... affair, what woman would be suitable for me?"

"No you're just getting a big head," Quinn said, punching him playfully.

"What? No!" Jarvan's face flushed slightly when he realized what he had said. "I don't mean that no woman is great enough for me, I simply meant-" He stumbled over his words, unable to express himself. Quinn raised an eyebrow, waiting for what he had to say. "I simply meant that... well, with all of this fighting that I do, I feel like it would be... difficult for a wife to keep up. I'd prefer someone like Garen or Xin Zhao, honestly, but I don't think they'd be suitable for marriage." Jarvan chuckled at his little joke, but his laughter quickly died down at Quinn's face.

"Excuse me? What in Demacia's name is that supposed to mean?!"

"What are you getting angry for?" Jarvan asked, panicked. An angry Quinn was not a Quinn to be trifled with. He had learned that the hard way.

"Are you saying that you'd think men would be better than women at fighting? Is that the reason you're so worked up right now?!"

"Wait, I- well- yes!" The prince's face paled when Quinn's face seemed to become even angrier. "I mean-I... I'm just saying, I think that a man would be better off with doing my hobbies... and a woman wouldn't be!"

The AD Carry couldn't believe her ears.

"...Do you think of me the same way as well?"

There was a slight pause in hesitation. Far too long.

Quinn's mouth opened in a perfect 'O', eyebrows furrowed in anger. "Oh... Oh _no. _You did _not-"_

"Quinn..."

"No. We are settling this. Right now. Training grounds in the Institute. _Now._"

Jarvan sighed, and closed his eyes. _Fuck me in the ass, this just took a right turn to Deathville._

* * *

Training grounds. The place was a perfect replica of one of the most used battlegrounds in the League of Legends: Summoner's Rift. Capable of holding any even amount of champions, the Training Grounds was a location where any champion could practice their skills and fighting prowess, free from summoners. The training ground was a simulator, one which ended when all of the champions on one team had died. Champions could control settings: giving them full access to all of their abilities as soon as the game started, or simply starting the training ground like a normal game.

Quinn injected the simulator serum into her arm, as Jarvan did the same to himself. Closing their eyes, they both felt the familiar floating sensation that all champions felt when they were summoned.

Jarvan closed his eyes. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

He was in for one hell of a beating. Even if he was to want to fight back... he couldn't bring himself to. Here, where he had full control of his own body, the prince of Demacia could not bring himself to raise his weapon against Quinn. Forcing his feet to move towards the center lane, when he'd much rather be in the jungle, Jarvan cursed himself over and over again.

He could already see Quinn's smug smirk when he fell.

* * *

Quinn laughed, her face full of joy and smug glee as the two walked down the halls of the Institute. Of course, _she _had room to laugh. _She _wasn't the one that had gotten killed, what, five times, before the serum ran out? Even though all pains in the Training Room should have disappeared, Jarvan could feel every single bruise and cut that Demacia's Wings had inflicted upon him. He swore that Valor took "_Go for the eyes!"_ seriously. He still had trouble blinking.

After what seemed like the umpteenth groan from Jarvan, Valor gave out a small squawk of disapproval and set off, flying off from Quinn's shoulder.

"What'd he say?" Jarvan sighed, knowing it was probably some snarky remark.

Quinn's face flushed slightly. "I don't think I should say," she muttered. Bingo.

The Prince gave yet another groan, and Quinn finally got the hint. She spotted a bench a few hundred paces ahead, and allowed Jarvan to lean on her shoulder as she pretty much carried him over. "Wuss," she said, laughing again.

_You wouldn't have as much room to laugh if you were as beaten and broken up as I am._

"Heh, I guess I am," Jarvan said, instead of voicing his rather snide inner comment.

Why couldn't he bring himself to say what was going on inside his head? Rather, why couldn't he bring himself to insult her, or hurt her in that match? Sure, he had landed a few attacks, but even those were harmless. And somewhere in the back of his head, he knew that Quinn would've been able to take his hardest attacks, especially with that insane build she had in her pocket.

Suddenly, a loud voice. The queen of Demacia, her eyes wide, looking at them. "Hello, mother."

"My son... I was so worried!" She pushed past Quinn and embraced Jarvan. After mussing up his hair quite a bit, the overly-affectionate queen turned to Quinn, who had been stifling her laughter. "Thank you so much for taking care of my foolish son while he was out doing... whatever. Anyways, Jarvan, I already have three women I need you to meet today. They're all very qualified..." For some reason, Jarvan could only block out what her mother was saying when something caught his eye. Quinn's lips tightened, her eyes hardening at the mention of the three women.

One of his most trusted friends... Quinn... His mind dazed off from her mother's rambling. She was smart, and always stood by his side through thick and thin. A woman who put duty before her passion, a woman he admired for a long time. Emotions buried deep inside of him, admiration, fondness, starting blooming in him. A talented woman, perhaps not so great with speaking but certainly trustworthy and displaying a feeling that you couldn't help but _trust _her...

"Actually, mother, I think you won't have to be finding any women anymore," Jarvan said, a small smile gracing his lips. Both Quinn and the Queen's eyes widened in unison. "I've already found someone I think is extremely qualified for this position." As his mouth moved to form a name, Jarvan couldn't help but think, _maybe marriage won't be so bad._

**Fin.**

**I'VE NEVER REALIZED HOW HARD IT IS TO WRITE A FANFICTION ABOUT A CHAMPION THAT I AM ABSOLUTELY UNFAMILIAR WITH. Anywho, it was really fun researching Jarvan and listening to his quotes, seeing how he'd speak, etcetera and etcetera...**

**Thank you all that gave me so much support through this little writer's block. *cries* You guys are all amazing, really. ;w;**

**-Taco**


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